Greater Good
by Fifa
Summary: Apollo is forced down onto Earth to help a decendant of Cassandra... second story only so concrit is welcomed.
1. Chapter 1

Greater Good

Prologue

Rashel heard the front door open and knew what was happening. She had known this would happen. She had warned her parents, but they had not believed her, had thought it to be only the over-active imagination of a child. And now…

Two loud bangs sounded and then silence once again fell over the house.

…they were dead. That had not been fair, but then, life never had been. No one had believed the truth, and now they had too much to show for it. In her mind's eye, Rashel saw the Armoured men start up the stairs towards the nursery. The one at the front, she knew, was the Leader. He would complete this mission, and the possibility that he might die trying had never occurred to him. He reached her door, and she watched the handle, waiting.

The door opened.

"That's the one," the Leader said, ushering in the Armoured Men so that they could surround the small girl sitting innocently on the floor, her book folded carefully in her lap. She looked up at them and smiled guilelessly.

"I knew you'd be here," she said cheerfully. "You've come to take me away, because that is what you were told to do. Do you know why?"

The Leader ignored her and gestured for the rest of the men to gather in closer. None of them seemed inclined to listen to a nine-year-old.

"They're going to lock me up. In a bed, where I will never wake. They will watch my dreams on television and use them to help people – for the greater good. But I will be in pain. The Dream-Watcher will have to hurt me. For the greater good.

"And know this, Armoured Men." Her voice hardened, and it was unnervingly adult for such a small person. "You understand precious little about what you work for. If I were you, I would stop before it gets too deep for even you. Killing innocents, kidnapping children. What has become of you? You who were once so mighty."

A soft thumping noise sounded as a sedative-laced dart pierced her skin.

"Sorry," said one of the Armoured Men. "Finger slipped."

The Leader gave him a look that said he didn't believe a word the man was saying.

Chapter 1

Apollo

"Father, I really must disagree with your judgement. It's not like she's one of us – not like she is anything more than mortal. We should just leave her where she is. She's doing the human world a lot of good, and because they're reading her, the whole 'we don't believe her' issue has vanished. Why can't she just stay where she is?" Apollo demanded, having dispensed with formality and talking openly to his father as if the god couldn't kill him with a word.

Zeus drummed his fingers against the armrest of his throne and eyed his son thoughtfully. "I believe you are scared."

"Please, father," Apollo replied, rolling his eyes sarcastically. "I'm just thinking of the time and effort we could save by leaving her where she is!"

"No, my boy. Not the time and effort _we _could save. The time and effort _you _could save. You are responsible for her predicament, and you will get her out of it. Or I may just set Cerberus on you. Do you understand?"

"I still don't see why-"

"And you the god of prophecy. Such a lack of insight. Go, before I decide that you aren't necessary to the continued existence of the world."

Apollo gave a cursory bow, then strode out of the throne room. He was not happy about this turn of events. He did not want to help someone who had inherited the curse he had rightfully bestowed so many centuries before. Likely the descendant would be just as proud and icy cold as Cassandra herself had been. Beautiful, yes, but harsh and unwelcoming.

Rashel

Rashel was all too aware that there were two of her – the dreamer and the walker. While her body, the dreamer, slept and dreamt of disasters over the world, and matters of international security, her consciousness, manifested like a ghost into a vague image of what she looked like, wandered the Earth, visiting all sorts of places and listening to many different conversations. She had looked for heaven and found nothing, but had spoken to ghosts who had been there and returned.

Talking to mediums was always interesting because, aside from their being the only living beings that could see her, they never knew quite what to make of her. She was an enigma – not quite alive, but far from dead. She had a living, physical body, but no attachments to it.

Once, she had searched the present world for disaster and prodded her dreaming self into viewing it for the Dream Watcher, but nothing had been done. They were only concerned about predicting earthquakes and volcanic eruptions, terrorist attacks and assassinations. Major things that they would be given credit for.

From time to time she followed around the mercenary ex-SAS group Tango-Delta, who she had originally referred to as the Armoured Men, in the hope of finding out something about her captivity, but she never did for long because what they did was so abhorrent.

She was following them once more, hoping that she would learn something before they got into the bloody business of murder, when she felt a sharp tug on the back of her neck. The physical sensation was unnerving because she was incorporeal, and when she turned around there was no one there. She walked out through the walls and floated along the streets, trying to find the source of the discomfort.

It happened again, but this time it didn't stop. It was incredibly forceful, and she was pulled off of her feet. Someone was dragging her backwards through space to some unknown place.

Apollo

He had been right. Despite the fact that she was slightly emaciated, she was very much a beautiful woman, and very much as stubborn as he would have expected. Psychically pulling her consciousness out of Texas and back to her body deep inside an English research facility was taking more time than he would have imagined. She was struggling like a wild thing. Anyone would think she didn't _want _to be rescued.

Apollo gave up when he got her to the Atlantic Ocean and released her, not wanting to spend any longer on something that was proving so difficult. He decided that she would probably return to her body once the sedative was out of her system.

Besides, the man who watched all of her dreams on television was starting to wake up, and Apollo didn't to have to knock him unconscious _again._ He pulled the needle, the one that constantly pumped drugs and sustenance into her bloodstream, out of her wrist, and none-too-gently removed the electrodes and needles recording her REM waves. She hadn't been very co-operative, so why should he take too much care over her?

He lifted her limp body up and rested her over his shoulder, teleporting them out to the suite he had hired in London. It was big and luxurious – surely they wouldn't bump into each other too often once she was awake?

Zeus had somehow managed to blackmail him into agreeing to looking after the woman for a month or so until she fully acclimatised to consciousness. He hadn't been happy about it – he still wasn't happy about it – but he had no choice in the matter. Even his mother had been roped into forcing him to agree to this torture. Apparently he was supposed to feel some sort of guilt for cursing a member of Rashel's family millennia ago.

He dumped the woman unceremoniously on the bed, not even bothering to put her into some semblance of a comfortable position before he teleported back up to Olympus to see if he could persuade his father to cut down on the look-after-her period. He had rescued her – wasn't that enough?


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Rashel

Rashel woke up with a jolt. Her eyes snapped open and her breath came in short, sharp gasps as she rose into wakefulness. She tried to sit up, but her stomach muscles wouldn't let her. Her arms and legs barely twitched when she attempted to raise them, and when she gave up on moving her limbs and tried to raise her body into the air like she normally could, nothing happened.

Nothing.

It took her about thirty seconds to realise that she was fully alive again, no longer trapped as a spirit in a living world. And shortly after that to understand that she was unable to move, presumably because she hadn't used her muscles since she was nine years old.

At least she could blink, although the meagre light that left the room in shadows was burning her eyes. She was in pain, and trapped inside a body that wouldn't move. It was like a nightmare, only she was awake for it. She had always thought that being conscious and unable to communicate, walking through life unseen and unheard, was the worst thing that could happen to a person, but this… though similar, it was a hundred times worse. At least she had been able to move around as a spirit. Now she was just… trapped.

No, that was wrong, she acknowledged. She could feel her facial muscles bunching and contracting as she went through her different emotions. She could frown, and widen her eyes, and squint, and she even thought she could smile a bit.

Yes. First things first. She was going to learn to smile.

It couldn't be too hard. She had done it many times as an incorporeal being, and as a child before her abduction. It came to most people as naturally as breathing. She would just have to think of something funny if she was to get this body working again.

Of course, being put on the spot, she couldn't come up with anything. She just tried to pull lots of different faces until all of her muscles were working again.

With her face, at least, it wasn't like there was anything wrong with them – she'd just forgotten how to use them. She lost track of time as she wrinkled her nose and furrowed her forehead again and again until it became practically natural.

Light began to creep into the room as she moved on to voice, and it came as a shock to her that it was neither hoarse nor difficult to use. Either she had used it on many occasions in her dreaming, or voice boxes just didn't get disused. She wasn't sure which, and wasn't sure she wanted to know.

"What on earth are you doing?" demanded a smooth, cultured voice just as she finished a length of 'mememememememes,' still testing out her voice.

"I don't see that it's any concern of yours," she retorted, wishing she'd gotten on to her neck muscles so she could look sideways and see who she was talking to. "Who are you? Where am I?"

"I don't see that it's any concern of yours," he mimicked childishly.

"I disagree. Where I am is rather relevant to me, don't you think?"

Apollo

Every bit as stubborn and annoying as he had known she would be. And she hadn't even looked over to acknowledge his presence. How dare she ignore the presence of a god?

"No," he responded tightly, knowing full well that he was wrong but unwell to admit it. The woman raised her eyebrows but still didn't look at him. Apollo started to lose patience with her. "Sit up so that we can have a decent conversation, or I may be forced to take action against you. Which will not be pleasant."

"I can't," said the treacherous descendent of Cassandra.

By the Underworld, she was trying his patience! She was lying in his bed, what did she have to complain about? Thousands of women over the centuries would have killed to be where she was right now, and she refused a simple, reasonable request? He strode over to her and tore the covers off of her. Still she didn't react, except for a small sigh.

"What is your problem?" he demanded, his accent thickening so that a bit of Greek leaked in as he got more and more frustrated.

"I can't actually move," the woman said reasonably, exasperation in her voice. "I've been unconscious for… fifteen years? You're lucky I can talk. I spent the last few hours re-learning how to manipulate my own face."

Apollo snapped his fingers impatiently. "There. No longer a problem." He had healed the muscle wastage with a thought and a short burst of magic, and although he hadn't restored her to peak fitness, she should at least be able to sit up and walk around. He wasn't going to go too far out of his way to be nice.

Hey, he could be as petty as the next god.

"Now let's see if I can remember how to use these things," the woman muttered under her breath. "Arms? One, two, going up and down. So far, so good."

She used said arms to push herself up from the bed, then swung around so that her legs hung off the edge of the bed. She smiled up at Apollo with such grateful happiness that for a second he forgot that he was in the middle of hating her guts.

"Thank you so much!" she said, standing up, still with the insanely happy look on her face. She tottered forwards and launched herself at Apollo in a huge hug that left him bewildered. He stood stiffly with her arms around him, taken aback by such affection.

"Oh. Not a huggy person?" She released her grip on him and stepped back. "Sorry. I'm going to have to get used to this whole 'normal life' thing all over again. But I'm really grateful for your healing me." Then, suddenly, she became aware of the fact that that wasn't a normal occurrence. "You're a god, aren't you?"

Rashel

She didn't know where the thought had come from, and nothing like it had happened since she had been kidnapped. It wasn't as if it was a normal thought, either. Most people would not think 'I've been healed, he must be a god.' It would be slightly more ordinary to think she was dreaming, or that he was a human with magical powers, but no, she had this conviction that he was a god.

Maybe when she had woken up, the two parts of her consciousness had recollided and she was psychic once again. On the other hand, it could just be that the man in front of her was the fittest she had seen in all her earth-wandering years. He looked like a god, with his perfectly chiselled features and a body that was essentially every woman's dream of perfection.

He was also wearing a toga.

"Yes," he said in clipped tones. He wasn't being particularly open, or even nice, about anything. Not that she had much experience with what was rude and what wasn't, but surely he could be a little less… abrupt?

"So, let's see, who could you be?" This was going to be fun. If he didn't want to come outright and tell her, she'd just go through a list of every god she knew the name of. And there were a lot of them. She'd been fascinated by mythology, and after forcing herself to go to school until she was eighteen (whether anyone knew she was there or not), she'd visited a few universities and sat in on some lectures.

"So, the toga would indicate… Greek or Roman. Maybe Mesopotamian, or Phoenician? No, not Mesopotamian, and I can't remember what the Phoenicians used to wear. I think they wore togas too, and weren't they similar to the Greeks as well? They're not remembered as much now, but-"

"I'm not Phoenician," he growled, toga changing into a business suit.

Ooh, tetchy! "With that silver tongue of yours, you could _so_ be Adonis," she muttered sarcastically. "Okay, let's go for Greek or Roman. But since they're so often the same thing, I prefer Greek and I'll go by that. I'm thinking, not Ares because you don't _look _like the type to steal another man's wife. Not that you couldn't," she added quickly, to salve his pride, "but I just don't think you would. Zeus is a definite no-no, for the same reason. And also I tend to think of him as a more distinguished looking man, late forties, salt-and-pepper hair. You don't look that much older than thirty, and you're blond."

She looked the man up and down, trying to place him. She wasn't even aware of him as a person anymore, she just wanted to solve the puzzle he presented. The confused look in his eyes went unnoticed. "Whoever heard of a blond Greek? But anyway. You're not Poseidon, because you're not, well, _blue _enough. Everything has a colour that I associate with it, you know, and to look at you you're more of a red-and-gold. Which rules out Hades, too. You don't look… crazy enough to be a wind. Maybe Achilles…"

The god twitched.

"Or maybe not. Ooh, what about Helios? Wait, I've got it. You're Apollo, aren't you? Both Apollo and Helios are red and gold, but it's day time so if you were really Helios you'd be driving the sun across the sky. Hah! Hello, Apollo."

"Hello, Rashel."

So talkative.

But suddenly she was a little more nervous at having a powerful, immortal deity in the same room as her, and her sarcasm dried up. She was all too aware of the fact that she was no longer safe from harm, because she had a physical body. Not that it wasn't nice to be able to actually touch things, but it did make her infinitely more vulnerable.

"Erm… maybe I can get out of here," she said, trying not to show that she was actually terrified witless. Apollo, if that's who he was since he hadn't actually verified her statement, was unmoved. He didn't even blink which was, to be honest, quite unnerving.

"Yeah, I'll definitely be going," Rashel muttered, only just realising that she wasn't dressed in proper clothes. Normally they materialised on her body whenever she concentrated hard, but now she was a physical being and that couldn't happen anymore.

She looked down at herself and grimaced when she saw her clothes. She was essentially dressed in what looked like a hospital robe, only too small. Most hospital robes were absolutely huge, especially on people her size.

Along with the whole too-small thing, she gradually noticed that it was completely open at the back, only tied together around her neck. So it was gaping, too small, and she was in the company of a fit god whose identity and conscience had yet to be confirmed. She had also spent the past ten minutes potentially annoying the hell out of him. Dear god, this day was getting worse and worse.

After they had stared at each other for about ten seconds, Rashel slightly preoccupied by the idea that if she turned around he'd see her bare buttocks. She also couldn't get it out of her head that he looked _really _good in that business suit.

Finally, she shook herself out of her daydream. "Hey, about that leaving thing. Can I have some clothes to go with it?"

"You don't own any clothes," said the god. Rashel tried not to point out that that was a given and was also why she had been asking him for clothes. She was trying her best not to annoy him so that she wouldn't end up as a smear on the nice hardwood flooring. It wasn't wise to irritate someone capable of extinguishing your life with a single thought.

Actually, to hell with that. Sure, it might not be wise, but whatever happened to fun? She finally had a voice that people could hear and she was going to use it.

"I know I don't. So I was wondering if you could make them appear for me. Because I equally have no money, probably no birth certificate, and no qualifications to help me get a job. Clothes would be a helpful start towards any of those things. Please."

Apollo looked at her like she was a cockroach.

"Look, I know you're more than half gay and everything, so you're not going to rape me, but looking at me like that doesn't give me confidence that murder is out of the question. Can you either let me go or tell me what's going on, because otherwise I might do something interesting – in a bad way – like develop histrionic personality disorder, or maybe throw a tantrum."

Still no comment from mad, bad and dangerous.

"Histrionic personality disorder means I might get over-emotional and seek attention. Oh right, I remember, it might also lead me to throw myself at you in an attempt to seduce you. Let's not go there. So, clothing?"

The god vanished, looking a little wild about the eyes. Finally, she'd got to him.

She was also now alone in a strange new world that she didn't understand and couldn't protect herself in. Yay for her. On top of which, her voice's first outing into the real world had been an overwhelming failure.

But, not one to dwell on what had happened, she walked over to the huge wardrobe in the corner, bent over, and started rummaging through various items of male clothing to find something that might fit, or at least suffice until she could get something to wear of her own.


	3. Chapter 3

_Sorry it's been a while. I'll try to be more consistent from here on in._

Chapter 3

Apollo

"Father, she's insane," said Apollo without preamble, teleporting straight into the throne room, uncaring of the fact that court was in session. "I can't do this."

"You are crossing a line, my son. You will leave and return once I am done with my business. Until then, I do not wish to see you."

Apollo glared furiously.

"But father-"

"You will leave."

Apollo teleported back out and into the room, only to find that Rashel was crouched in front of his wardrobe, rifling through his things. That wasn't what got to him, though. It was more the fact that the gown she was wearing had split and was hanging down at her sides, revealing her bare skin from neck to toe. His mouth instantly went dry, and he stood stock-still for a couple of seconds before quickly turning his back.

"Oh, you're back," said Rashel, turning around and instantly wrapping the hospital robe-thing tightly around her. "I thought you'd be gone for at least another… well, a while. Long enough for me to get some of your clothes out and put them on. You can turn around if you like, I'm covered now."

"Just put on one of my shirts and have done with it," said Apollo tightly. He didn't like the idea that she was, to all intents and purposes, naked behind him. Besides, an image of her body was imprinted on the back of his eyelids and that was making him tetchy.

"One minute – I haven't used buttons in a while." She had apparently found a shirt to put on, but was having difficulty fastening it. Apollo's intense study of the wall in front of him did nothing to ease his agitation, and after a couple of minutes he grew frustrated. She was probably doing that just to irritate him, just as she'd planned bending over like that for the precise moment he entered the room.

Conniving witch.

"There, done," she said finally. "I found a belt in there as well so that it doesn't look entirely like a sack – please may I use it?"

Apollo turned around slowly and fixed her with an intimidating stare. She was going to pay for crossing him. How dare she try to lure him into whatever trap she was setting?

"I'll take that as a yes," she said cheerfully, pulling out a black leather belt and sliding it around her waist, turning away slightly for some reason that Apollo couldn't make out. She pulled it tight, and after adjustments the thing came down to about mid-thigh length. She rolled the sleeves up and stretched out her shoulders. "Can you tell me what's going on then, please?"

"I can," he replied, deliberately being as obtuse as possible.

"Will you?"

"No."

"Great. Am I going to have to start babbling my deductions, then? And sound like a crazy woman? Again?"

So she realised she was probably insane. At least it was a start. Unless this was some trick or other designed to put him off his guard.

"You're wearing my favourite shirt," he said, changing the subject. He hadn't even realised he had put the damned thing in there, but was relatively certain it looked better on her than it ever had on him. He was also put out that she had managed to find the only one he actually liked – it actually had colour on it.

"Favourite?" she asked, appearing completely taken aback. "I chose this one because it's hideous and I thought you wouldn't mind!"

Apollo started spluttering. She was being outrageous. Completely outrageous. He had finally consented to allow her to wear his clothes, and she was insulting both him and his fashion sense. He was not going to put up with this, no he was not. He strode towards her angrily, not sure what he was going to do to her, but knowing she wasn't going to enjoy it.

Rashel

Rashel found his imperious striding across the room more amusing than she should have done. "Look, Polly, I was kidding," she said with a little smile. "Please don't take offence."

"Offence?"

"Or a door, because that's stealing." She needed to get a hold on herself. Bad puns were not endearing to anyone. "Sorry. I didn't mean to actually hurt your feelings."

"As if you could hurt any of me."

"Oh. Okay." Fair enough. He was an immortal god, so that was a reasonable statement, but she still felt a little bit taken aback at his hostility. She hadn't done anything wrong, that she could tell, but if he wanted to keep her at arm's length and remove her first opportunity at human interaction in a long, long time, she could play along.

A mask fell over her face. She hadn't known she could do that, but she was instantly just a polite stranger. "Please may I also borrow a pair of trousers and a small amount of money, so that I can go outside and take a look around? I'm sorry to have to ask. I'll pay you back as soon as I can."

Apollo gave her a long look, as if wondering what had happened, but she just looked back at him impassively. If he found her confusing to deal with, he'd just have to live with it. She'd try not to be crazy with him anymore. There was just no fun in it if he wasn't going to warm up.

"You may," he said at length. "My wallet is on the table in the kitchen, with pin code to all cards being 1618. When you wish to return, say you are a guest of Mr. Acestor. I will leave instructions for them to allow you entry."

"Thank you."

She doubted he heard. He had already vanished from the room again. It was starting to become an irritating habit of his, but she didn't particularly care. Hopefully he wasn't going to pop in again at an embarrassing moment, but even if he did, it was his own fault. She wandered back over to the wardrobe and searched through for some small trousers.

He didn't have any.

A few seconds later, a pair of jeans fell into the room from mid air, and Rashel frowned. She had to assume they were from Apollo, and they were in her size, but that had been uncharacteristically nice for him.

Oh well. At least she was decently-clothed now. She thanked the air in case he was listening, and made her way to the door, stuffing his wallet in her pocket as she did so. She glanced in a full-length mirror as she passed it and recoiled a bit. She was tiny. She needed a square meal. She almost looked anorexic.

Meh. She could deal with it.

Apollo

"Arty, she's driving me crazy. Please. You have to help me reason with father."

"Hmm?" The elegant huntress looked up from her target and lowered the bow. "Oh, you mean Cassandra's daughter."

"Many times removed," Apollo felt obligated to point out. It wasn't as if she was a particularly close descendant of Cassandra, hence his aversion to feeling any guilt at her predicament.

Artemis waved away that technicality with a small gesture. She lifted the bow again and fired down the range to hit the moving image of a deer as it grazed, sighing when all that happened was the image dissolved. "I hate this hunting ban. I don't want to fire at digital images. Oh well. What has she done this time?"

"She was behaving peculiarly, then suddenly she turned into a polite person. She's trying to manipulate me, but I don't know how. She refused to put trousers on, for Zeus' sake!"

"Do you have any in her size?"

"No, but-"

Artemis clicked her fingers. "She should have some in your apartment now. I hope they fit. Could you not at least try to be friendly?"

"Are you siding with her?" Apollo demanded of his twin, outraged. "You've never even met her! And you remember Cassandra, don't you? Do you want someone else like that running rampant around the world?" He was righteously outraged. Cassandra had caused mayhem everywhere she went. By saying things that people then had to not believe, she had done more damage than if she had simply kept her prophecies to herself.

"Did you even think of making her an ID and history? I'll get to it. And I remember Cassandra was a lovely girl who just happened to not like you. And with your frigid attitude, it seems you've driven off Rashel in the same way. That's why she suddenly went all polite on you."

"Bu-"

"When you next see her, you are going to apologise, Apollo. You could at least try to get on with her for the next month. I will attempt to undo the damage you have already done, but be warned, brother-" she shot a small rabbit cowering in the corner of the screen, but it wasn't meant to be a target, so nothing happened "-I won't be running to your rescue again."

It hadn't been the rousing vote of support Apollo had been hoping for. He didn't say a word, just teleported away to sit in his room on Mount Olympus and sulk for a while.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Rashel

The big wide world was a scary place when people could see you. Not that many people stopped to look at what was going on around them. Despite her odd clothing choice, Rashel only got a few passing glances.

But first off, she needed to get some shoes. The pavement was biting into her feet like nobody's business. She started walking down the road, careful not to let her toes get trodden on, following the flow of people until she came to a shopping district. Oxford Street, if she wasn't mistaken. There were shops all around her, on every side. But which one would stock shoes?

Hmm, maybe the one with a shoe display in the window?

She dodged her way through people, wincing with every pebble she caught in her foot, until she reached Ecco, a shop she had never seen before but which looked appropriate.

"Oh."

That single word made her wince as she stepped through the door. A shop assistant was looking down at her bare, dust-covered feet with disdain. Rashel looked up at the girl and raised her eyebrows. "I have a credit card. It's not maxed out. Don't ask about the bare feet, but can you recommend anything?"

Half an hour later, she had two pairs of socks, a pair of comfortable boots and recommendations for where she could acquire a wardrobe for herself. And with a credit card at her disposal, she soon had five huge shopping bags hanging from each arm, and three bags that she had bought for various purposes. This was getting quite intoxicating.

Suddenly, she thought she heard something behind her and spun quickly to check it out. In that instant, she forgot she was corporeal and let her arms swing out, managing to clout some poor stranger in the back with her multitude of bags.

"Oh…" She pulled a face. "I'm really sorry. Do you need any help with anything? Can I make it up to you?"

The poor business man straightened up with a hand on his back. "I think I'll survive."

"But is there anything I can do?"

He looked her up and down. "Well, you could buy me a coffee, and we'll call it quits."

Was that-? What the-? Damn these corporeal beings and their penchant to confuse her! Interactions were tough.

Nonetheless, she smiled. "Sure. Where do you want to go?"

"I think there's a Starbucks just up ahead. It's where I was heading anyway. So, shall we start at the beginning?"

"Always a good idea."

"Who are you?"

"Rashel Alexander. And yourself?"

"Jack Quicksilver."

She had the sensation that this man wasn't all he appeared to be, but she let it go. If her sixth sense couldn't tell her exactly what was strange, she couldn't be bothered to find out. And besides, she didn't feel like anything was wrong or dangerous, as such, just out of place.

It turned out that Jack Quicksilver was actually the CEO of a company she had never even heard of. Apparently it invested money in various companies and returned billions of pounds every year for its clients. Either way, Mr Quicksilver put it out there that a position for secretary was open should she want it.

"Mr Quicksilver, how do you know I don't already have a job?"

The businessman snorted. "From the time of day and the amount of shopping you have, you appear to be independently wealthy."

"What if I'm a wanted criminal?"

"Then you're not doing a very good job of protecting your identity. I'm a very good judge of character, and I have decided that I won't take no for an answer. Besides, it's a very good salary."

He named a figure that took her breath away. How the hell could he afford to pay that to a secretary? It was ridiculous. On the other hand, if she stood there gaping like a lunatic for much longer, she was going to lose this opportunity. Mr Quicksilver didn't _seem _like a crazed madman, so she really had no reason to refuse his offer.

"I think… after the hyperventilation… I might take you up on that," she said, still slightly shell-shocked. She wanted to demand exactly how much money he had, but decided against it. Such an obscene amount would probably make her faint dead away. "When and where is this job of my dreams, Mr Quicksilver?"

He laughed. "Now that you work for me, you have to call me Jack."

"I'm not sure that's how it works, but I'll roll with that," she said with a smile. This man was altogether too charming – a welcome change from Apollo's seemingly perpetual grumpiness. "But I really do need to know where to go…" she trailed off.

"Canary Wharf station, go along Colonnade, the north bit, and it's between HSBC and the Bank of America. Arcas Investments Ltd. Tomorrow at nine am sharp suit you?"

"Y- yeah, that's fine."

"You'll need to bring your bank details along, but other than a few forms to sign and fill out, we shouldn't have much trouble. Don't forget proof of address and ID."

He walked off with a smile and a wave, and Rashel felt a sinking feeling in her chest. She didn't have a bank account, proof of ID or proof of address. Something was going to go wrong here, she just knew it.

She left the café with all her bags and practically ran back to the hotel.

"Apollo! Apollo! Where are you? Please? I need help! It'll get rid of me quicker," she promised as an added incentive. The only way she could think of to get so much ID on such short notice was a miracle. And who better to provide miracles than a god?

Apollo

"Please don't shout," he said, wincing. He'd been sleeping. "What do you want?"

"-"

"Again, please. But slower."

"I got a job. And it pays pretty well, which is good, because I spent a lot of your money. And it's not hard – it's as a secretary. Problem is, I don't have a bank account for them to pay money into, or a passport or proof of address, or ID, or anything that could really be called necessary for office life. Except clothes. I have plenty of clothes, and handbags."

Apollo didn't reply. For starters, he was stunned that anyone had actually decided to hire this crazy woman, but the main reason was that he had just been woken up by someone he hated, and was therefore in even more of a bad mood than usual.

"Don't worry, dear, I've sorted it all out for you."

Apollo sat bolt upright. What the hell was his sister doing in his apartment?

He looked between his tall, beautiful sister and his newly acquired ward, who both seemed to have clicked in that strange way that women do. Apollo suspected that Artemis liked Rashel because the woman had just spent hundreds of pounds on clothes and handbags, but he had absolutely no idea what Rashel saw in his sister.

"Thank you. You must be Artemis, right?" Rashel smiled, and even though she was hardly in an optimum state of health, she was still dazzling. Apollo shook his head quickly to rid himself of that thought. She was a horrible, evil, manipulative _Cassandrian._

"I don't consider being a Cassandrian, as you so eloquently put it, a bad thing," Rashel said with a tight smile.

Had he said that out loud? He was going to have to avoid Artemis for weeks, lest she try to beat an apology out of him. He had meant every word, it was just unfortunate that he hadn't filtered the words before they got to his mouth. That was the kind of thing that got him into trouble all the time. The god of truth had trouble lying – even if it was lying by omission.

After glaring at him for a while, Artemis rescued him by drawing Rashel's attention away. The human woman would have grown icicles if her manner had been any cooler.

"Yes, I am Artemis. Apollo asked for my help in getting you sorted out. Don't worry, it was an entirely selfish gesture. He's not actually a nice person underneath, so it doesn't matter if you're rude to him. Even if he could destroy your existence, our father would imprison him eternally he if he did, so you're safe there."

It was an interesting sort of help, but Apollo was aware that he deserved it. Insulting someone to their face was rarely a good idea. He was just lucky that Rashel seemed to lack the innate fury of most women and was channelling it all into icy hatred.

"Good to know," said Rashel, smiling again. She had clearly decided to ignore the man who had to all intents and purposes rescued her from her slumberous prison. Ungrateful wretch.

"And don't worry about paying him back. He can afford it."

"I suppose the money accumulates over the centuries."

"That, and we can conjure it from thin air."

"One of the many benefits of godhood, I suppose," Rashel said wryly. "Thank you for all of this, it's going to come in quite handy. I've actually got myself a job, so it's just in the nick of time."

"Oh, you don't have to worry about working!" said Artemis, waving a hand imperiously. Apollo resisted rolling his eyes. His sister had no idea that some people actually enjoyed working and liked the semblance of reality and perspective it gave you. "There's no spending cap on your account, I'm funding it directly."

"I like the idea of working," Rashel said firmly. "I haven't had a normal life so far, and I'm going to do my best to make it normal now that I have it back in my control. But thank you for your concern."

Apollo felt some glee that his sister was rather taken aback by this, but to her credit, she hardly faltered. "Well, anyway. Your name is Rashel Alexander, as you know, your date of birth is as it has always been… Really, there was no trouble at all. I created a history for you – you've been in foster care since you were nine – but there is a lot of freedom to elaborate. Oh, and you were previously employed by my brother, who has taken you under his wing in a fatherly way, hence why you are staying with him."

Not. Happy. He had been called fatherly, and 'older than thirty,' both in the same day. Did he _look _like the fatherly type? And he did not look a day older than twenty-eight! It was enough to make a man want to scream!

"Wow. That's- that's fantastic. Thank you."

"Don't mention it." Artemis made to leave, but she went over to her shell shocked brother first and whispered in his ear, too low for a human to hear. "She gets the bed, you take the couch. Gettit?"

She teleported out before he had a chance to reply with the indignation that was suffusing his body.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Rashel

Soon after Artemis had left, Rashel had quickly changed into some of her new clothes and evacuated the premises of the silently fuming god. With or without Artemis' assurances, she didn't want to be around someone who looked like he really, really wanted to smite her. Even if she was in no physical danger, the atmosphere was hardly encouraging to conversation and relaxed chat. As a result, she had displaced herself to a nearby station where she just sat on a bench, watching the world go by. It felt comfortable and safe, and reminded her of when she had been invisible to the world. Alone in a crowd of people.

She had originally come specifically to the station because most stations had a WHSmith, where she could pick up the stationery that she assumed a secretary would need, but she had been sidetracked by the prospect of reminiscing about her old life. Sure, it was a little bit lonely, sitting there on her own, but she was used to it. The noise kept her mind occupied, and she was free to think about the last day.

"_Hey! You!"_

Startled, Rashel looked up and peered around. She couldn't see anyone talking to her, and yet she was certain that the words had been directed at her. She waited a little longer, focussing on everything around her, but when nothing more was said she drifted back into her reverie. Hours passed as she ran through memories and ideas. She didn't even notice when the station emptied, and she eventually drifted off to sleep.

At some point her consciousness separated from her body, and she was as she had been before Apollo had taken her out of the monitoring facility, but for a thin thread that she could see connecting her to her body. It was silvery and only half there, and she was aware that it shifted as she did, not the type of thread that would tangle her up. She shrugged – no one seemed to mind her sleeping on the bench – and moved off while her body rested. She wanted to scope out her new place of work before tomorrow, mainly so that she wouldn't get lost around the building and getting to and from the area. She was still stunned that she had been offered a starting wage of sixty thousand pounds a year! She'd have Apollo paid back in no time!

"Rashel Alexander! Where on earth have you been?"

Speak of the devil. What awkward timing. She had nearly been at the building – she could even see it in the distance.

"Keep your voice down, Polly," she warned. "I'm not technically corporeal at the moment, so you might end up facing a spell in a mental asylum."

"I don't care!"

He looked quite sweet with his hair flying wildly all over the place, his cheeks flushed with anger and cold. His trench coat was wrapped tightly around him, and he looked like he was freezing, and yet there was fire in his eyes. Rashel had no idea if it was I'm-going-to-kill-you fire or just normal angry fire, and she wasn't sure she wanted to find out. She had never yet been harmed while in her 'spirit form' but she had never encountered a god before.

"Ow!" Well, that answered that question. She felt like she had just taken a blow to the gut. "What was that for?"

For a second, Apollo looked nonplussed. "What was what for?"

"You hit me! Somehow or other…"

"You're not even physically here. How could I have hit you?" He started muttering something about a certain woman's propensity to jump to conclusions.

Rashel frowned. She believed him, although she couldn't justify the 'why' of it to herself. Which meant that the reason she was gasping for air that she couldn't actually take in was probably something to do with her physical body. Which was several miles away. She didn't like where this was going.

"I'll meet you back at the hotel," she blurted, spinning around. She grabbed onto the near-invisible thread connecting her to her body and took off from the ground at breakneck speed, rocketing through walls and concrete in a bid to return to her body.

Suddenly, she was in her flesh, and forced her eyes to open, before wishing that she hadn't. She was slung over a strange man's back like a sack of potatoes. This was not good.

Apollo

She had gone. He had only just found her, and she had gone. It hardly seemed fair that he had spent precious time looking for her, and she had repaid his hard work and dubious concern by abandoning him again. It was just plain rude, that was what it was. When he got his hands on her, he was going to throttle her. Maybe lock her in her room for his peace of mind. She was more trouble than she was worth, and he was going to have words with so many people for bringing her into existence that their heads would spin!

"Apollo."

He glanced up and spotted a silhouette floating some distance above his head.

"Hermes. What're you doing here?"

"Your Oracle, Pythia Sandra-"

"I know who my own Oracle is!"

"-has a message for you, and I have to deliver it. It's what I do. I'll stop in for a social later."

"Thanks. Bring Helios along with you, I've got some Tartarian ice to play around with."

"You're both gods of fire…"

"That's why it's so much fun!" An impish grin lit up his face as he contemplated the skull-splitting pain that would soon come around.

"Anyone would think you were the trickster," said Hermes, rolling his eyes as he came down and landed on the ground. "Never, in all my four thousand and however many years, have I tried to get a fire god to go anywhere near Tartarian ice! That's bordering on abuse!"

"We're going to be drinking it." The grin turned slightly manic and if he had been in a bad B movie, Apollo would have cackled. As it was, you could tell that despite his age, he was looking forward to inflicting pain on himself in a new and innovative way like a school boy. And new and innovative is always a challenge for a millennia-old god.

"Right. Well, I'll be right there, watching you scream in agony. But-"

"But?"

"Message."

"Message. Yes. I forgot about that." He didn't seem too concerned.

"That's why you're not the messenger. The Pythia wanted to tell you to have a little faith."

"In what?"

"In who. Your new roommate, I think."

"What, no cryptic verse? I'm going to have to have words with her."

"Where is she, anyway?"

"The Oracle? You've seen her more recently than I have."

"No, Rashel."

"Oh, she said something about me hitting her while she was incorporeal, and took off. Literally." He was about to wave it away as nothing when something occurred to him. It struck him like a blow, and he covered his face with his hands. "Something hurt her. While she didn't have a body. This isn't looking good."

"So where is she now?"

"I DON'T KNOW!" He paused for a second, trying to think, but only finding panic. "You have to help me find her, Hermes."

"Why? Don't you hate her?"

"NOT THE POINT RIGHT NOW! GET YOUR FLYING-SANDALED FEET SEARCHING!"

Rashel

"Hey! Put me down! Now! Please."

She was unceremoniously draped over the shoulder of a heavily built policeman, who was carrying her as if she weighed nothing. She hadn't had a chance to weigh herself yet, but she was pretty certain she had substantial mass. It was disconcerting to be lifted this easily. The intense amount of physical contact was overwhelming her after so long without making contact with anything, and she was ashamed to think it, but she was a little bit afraid. She had never been scared before in her life.

"I'm taking you to the station, miss. Please stop struggling."

"I'll walk, if you like."

"We're at the car now. Please don't make a fuss."

"Am I being arrested?"

"Oh. Yeah. Your rights. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence."

"This is one heck of a day."

She was set down on her feet, and barely had time to brush herself off before she was pushed into the back of the unmarked police car. She stopped herself from experimentally trying the handles to see if the doors were locked, and instead ran her hands over the rough fabric. She didn't remember this sort of sensation, and had never tried to imagine it. She had never really thought she would be in a situation where she would be in the back of a police car. To be honest, she had never really thought she would escape her prison. She needed to thank Apollo properly for that.

"Hey, lady. Name?" A second police officer, in the passenger seat, turned around and looked at her with a cocky grin. There was something odd about him. In a bad way.

"Rashel Alexan…der…" She trailed off at the end, suddenly realising that her new identity was going to be put to the test sooner than she had thought. "Sorry, Rashel Alexander. I'm twenty-four. I'm currently living with my boss – well, ex-boss now, I suppose. Not in a weird way, he hired a hotel suite, and we both sleep there, in separate rooms, until I get a job and can afford to move out. He feels kinda guilty because he had to make me redundant, but it turned out well for me, I guess." She smiled nervously and shut her mouth before she said anything else freaky.

"Rashel, we're arresting you on suspicion of drug use."

"Oh, that's fine. I haven't taken anything."

"I've taken pictures of the track marks on your arms, and your unhealthy condition is a key indicator. You don't have to lie. We can get you into rehab."

"I'm clean. I've been in hospital recently. A bad virus. I had an IV, hence the marks, and that's why I'm so thin. I've even got a scar on my stomach from where they couldn't feed me solids and had to pipe them in."

She really hoped Artemis, or someone with superpowers, had been listening there, because otherwise she was going to have to lie an awful lot to get herself out of this, and she had never had to do that before.

"Why were you asleep on the bench?"

"I was waiting for someone. A friend. He never showed, and I must've dozed off. I didn't have anything except a coffee all day, which in hindsight wasn't the smartest thing to do." She actually hadn't. And she was starving, come to think of it. She really needed to get back into the habit of eating. Ooh, she could try junk food! Her parents had never let her eat it, and then she hadn't had the opportunity. And ice cream! And pie! She was tempted to buy a whole food shop, just so she could try out her taste buds.

And oh! She had a memory of caramel hot chocolate that she had whenever she was ill, and she really wanted to try making that again!

But as seconds ticked over into minutes, she began to grow suspicious of the lack of station. She didn't say anything, though, because she didn't want to aggravate the two cops. She _was _meant to be psychic, though, and she tried hunting for a prophecy, or a fragment of information that could help her.

Nothing came.

It wasn't frustrating because she couldn't do it. It was incredibly infuriating that she had been kept asleep for fifteen years for something that she now could NOT DO OF HER OWN ACCORD!

She was quickly moving past the realm of 'shiny-happy-fairy-land' and going into a small dukedom where the duke had a grudge against her and had put a price on her head, and was probably not taking her to a police station. She was gaining a strong sense of her own mortality, her own helplessness, and she didn't like it.

Being corporeal sucked.


End file.
